Rehab
by Dangerpro
Summary: Daphne is trying hard to forget him, but everything reminds her of him. Shaggy trying to comfort her, but he doesn't know how. Fred is drowning. D/F & D/S
1. Chapter 1

**A/N: This is a one-shot story about a music video I made of Daphne's feelings during "Scooby Doo and Scrappy Doo show" and "Scooby Doo and the thirteen ghosts". If you wish to watch it it's called "Thinking of you Freddie". So enjoy this short story. :)**

Daphne's hands gripped around the stirring wheel of the mystery machine tightly, her eyes desperately tried to stay focussed on the road. Accept her mind unwillingly slipped away to a certain young man who once sat in the driver's seat. _Oh please, _her weak voice pleaded, _not him! anything but him! _The ecstatic laughter from the remaining members of mystery inc faded away, She always kept herself busy, so that his face wouldn't enter her mind, but times like this, when she drove the mystery machine it reminded her. And so the vivid memories ran through her head, as soon as they appear the more likely she would spend the rest of the night locked in a small room. It was the best way to deal with it when she was near breaking point. To just cut her connections from realisation, and sit in a dark quiet room by herself. Ironically it was those same rooms that she was stuffed in when she was kidnapped. She sometimes pretended that he would open the door and save her. Once upon a time he did, but not anymore. Her fantasy was over.

Usually when her tears finally dried and whimpers no longer escaped her mouth, Daphne was ready to come out of her enclosure. Of course she never shown this to anyone, especially not Shaggy and Scooby. At first she was glad of _his _absence, Daphne was finally in control, she was the leader of mystery inc. For once she wasn't just the pretty looking girl who stood beside him. But soon she began to realise she spoke like him, like "Come on, gang." or "Let's split up".

She began to question herself, was she a substitute for him? The reason why he spoke to her, acknowledged her- was so that she could take over when he's gone?

But the boy still fascinated her, he wasn't exactly what she expected, he was polite, intelligent and handsome. Everything she wanted. He was like a- _Drug, he is a drug, Daphne. You're like an addict in rehab. Get over it- he certainly has! _Oh, but she wanted him so bad. She ached for him. She wanted to be in his presence, to see him, to feel him. Something real for once. No more hallucinations, no more projections, no more ghosts. She wanted the real Fred. Her Fred. She could never tell him the truth, because she known, after pushing the thought out of her head it always bounced back, that Fred just used her, he just wanted a way to get himself out of mystery inc. And he did. But why does he keep coming back? Why does he rip Daphne open and leave her bleeding? Why didn't he left her to die?

Daphne cringed, remembering their last encounter. Fred, Shaggy, herself and the dogs volunteered to help at an orphanage's Christmas play. They both kept their distances and if were to have a conversation, it was short and formal. After death stares to his face, and longing looks the minute his back was even half-way turned.

"The worst Christmas ever." she smiled, but there were no humour in her tone.

"What did you say, Daphne?" a voice shattered her thoughts, Daphne didn't realised that the van was silent. She slipped up. Shaggy had noticed the long daydreams, the smeared mascara and mysterious sobs at night.

"Are you okay?" the beatnik's concerned voice asked, Daphne's arms stiffed. Putting on a quick fake smile before she turned to answer.

"Yes, never better." she flashed her infamous smile, her voice thick with enthusiasm.

Shaggy smiled back, his eyes still unsure to believe the red head. Suddenly the silence broke by a large screech into the night, a luminous figure flew past the mystery machine.

"ZIONKS!" Shaggy yelled, Scooby jumped into his arms as Scrappy eagerly tried to see the ghost.

As soon as Daphne halted the van, the ghost vanished. She felt her fear flood through her body, and for some strange reason she felt relieved. She found some thing to keep her mind off him for a while.

"Looks like we've landed ourselves in another mystery, gang."

She tried to move on, but she had to admit, the only men that caught her eye had the same qualities as him. For example his smile, his eyes, the way he slipped his hand in his pocket with his thumb poking out. Damn she missed him. She even imagined hearing him, simply muttering from behind her, something he did while he was in deep thought. She was even tempted to hang herself, it would have been quick and clean, a belt and the fan in her hotel room. Easy. But she didn't have the guts. Unlike him, she was a coward. She could never become half as a great leader he was.


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N: I simply couldn't end this without showing Shaggy's side of the story. So this is the last bit of this one-shot. AH the angst! I've got the song: She will be loved by Maroon 5 in my head while typing this.**

Shaggy watched the driver of the mystery machine carefully in the window reflection. Yet again, she fell into her zombie-like trance. There was no way to talk to her when she was in this trance, she would either mumble or ignore the beatnik completely. He felt his guts tighten, hatred burned through his heart, that man- that so called leader did this. She was nearly recovering from his absence when he decided to return. Just for the day- then left once again. Shaggy thought he stitched up her wounds, but HE returned to rip them open again. His poor Daphne was once again dead. A zombie. He seen the signs, if only he acted earlier- he could've prevented this- but he foolishly pushed them aside, he believed she would recover. After all, she IS Daphne, she could find someone else. Her drained voice spoke from the back of his mind.

"_No Shaggy, there's no one like him." _What about him- he stayed! Didn't that mean anything to her? He wasn't stupid, he could see her game. She was using him, just like how Fred used her. She used each mystery as a way of forgetting the blond. But so far there hasn't been a single mystery to solve. He didn't blame her, in fact if it helps… Shaggy would let her use him. Let her break his heart, as long as she feels a little less in pain. He didn't care, he would do anything for her.

Once again, hatred filled his heart - he wasn't a violent person, but damn. He wanted to kill that stupid son of a bitch. He bit his tongue, holding back his anger from Daphne, she didn't need it. Not now. _Get over him! He doesn't deserve any of this! The truth is, Daphne, he grown bored. Hell! I bet he's breaking another girl's heart as we speak! There's no 'work' for him to do. He basically got bored of this life- bored of you. You deserve better than that piece of shit we called Leader! _His own voice screamed in his head, he bit his tongue so hard to hold it back, that his tongue began to bleed. He could never say that to her. NEVER. The poor girl would probably snap. And Shaggy did not want to see that, it would double what he seen in the reflection.

He known she loved Fred, and deep down he had a small glimmer of hope she was beginning to have affection for him. Shaggy doubt it, he can't compare to Fred- nothing can. He spoke to Velma about Daphne's illness, but she could only comfort the girl for a short time before going back to work in N.A.S.A. Velma was also worried, and recommended a doctor for Daphne. Shaggy was furious at his young Friend to even suggest that for Daphne, she just going through a faze- that's all. And soon she would wake up from it.

Suddenly Daphne muttered something, with a broken smile on her lips.

"The worst Christmas ever."

Shaggy instantly known, what she was talking about. Like every time she was on the edge of the verge of breaking. She was reliving her latest memory of her pain- the nutcracker production they performed for an orphanage. And HE tagged along- the nerve! After taking her spirit, her happiness and her soul. He came back for more. Shaggy felt guilt bite into him fiercely, it was in fact Shaggy who organised it. He thought it would be good for them to speak. How wrong he was.

"What did you say, Daphne?" Shaggy smiled thinly, he wanted to comfort- but didn't know how.

Daphne broken free from her trance, blinking blankly for a few moments. Shaggy could see the blood shot eye, the sparkle told him that she was about to burst out crying. Shaggy cringed as Daphne suddenly put on her 'mask', the one she always worn when trying to cover something up.

That painful smile sent a thousand daggers into his heart, that smile gave him the chills.

"Yes, never better." she lied, keeping her smile tight, attempting not to let any emotions leak through her wall. _Oh god, Daphne, what did he do to you? Please, please, stop this before you…_

Shaggy couldn't even think of the last word. And so he played along, letting a thin smile slip on his face.

There was another long silence, interrupted by a screech into the night, a luminous figure flew past the mystery machine.

"ZIONKS!" Shaggy yelled, Scooby jumped into his arms as Scrappy eagerly tried to see the ghost. "Let me at him, let me at him!" he yelled, bouncing around at the back.

As soon as Daphne halted the van, the ghost vanished. Shaggy's head snapped to see the red head's face, and she was…. Smiling. The most genuine smile he seen from the girl in months.

Shaggy felt relief consume him. Daphne's back, but only until the mystery ends.

Daphne smirked to Shaggy, and suddenly that vulnerable sad girl vanished like the ghost.

Those focused eyes, that stern look was as if… Fred possessed her…

"Looks like we've landed ourselves in another mystery, gang." she repeated his words.

And Shaggy was yet again another piece in her game, and he could only play along.


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N: This is Fred's side of the story. The very end of Rehab.**

Fred sat in his study, he leaned back to stretch his aching back, cracking his stiff joints. He brushed away a few strands of his blonde hair from his eyes, focussing on the paper before him. He rubbed his eyes, wondering the last time he slept or whether he should be waking up or going to sleep.

"Is it even day?" he muttered, turning towards his window. He scratched his bristly chin, he basically worked like a machine, no time for a social life or a break. No, only him and his work mattered. As he gently lifted the curtains, the rays of sunlight gleamed into the room, Fred flinched as the pure light burned his eyes. He immediately stepped away from it, retreating back to his desk. As Fred slump back into the chair, he felt a sudden wave of grief hit him, he didn't know the cause of it. He buried his face in his hands, pulling himself together again. Desperate not to lose himself in his emotions. He lunged himself to his coffee, hoping to calm himself, though the coffee was made three hours before and now tasted cold and unpleasant on his rough tongue. He obviously known why he felt like this- it was her. He grown attached and now couldn't get the girl out of his head. He hated to feel so vulnerable, he never felt so weak. He certainly didn't like that. Fred wanted to be in control, he had to isolate himself. He shrugged off the sting of fear that shot through his body, and glanced at the time on the clock.

"Shit." he growled, roughly pulling his hand through his hair. He half wished somebody would have told him when to stop. To tell him to relax. To quit wasting his life away.

He felt a chuckle escape his mouth, slap-happy laughter caught him off guard. Someone DID tell him to stop, she begged him to, to quit wasting his life away.

If only he listened, but there was no going back for him. Mystery inc was the past. He tried to return, but she taken his role. Fred smiled unthinkingly, with pride, admiration and affection, she was a natural leader, when he tagged along to the Christmas play, she called the shots. He reluctantly remembered the Christmas play at the orphanage- _that stupid nutcracker outfit_- he remembered Daphne's angel costume, so perfectly fitting. She truly was an angel. He remembered crashing in the snow in attempt to catch the ghost, and the way she rose from that snow. So angelic. He blushed in the dark, dismissing his mixed emotions trapped inside. He remembered the game of poker face they silently played between one another. He waited that dark Christmas for her to break, though she held herself together. He was disappointed.

He slammed his fists, making the desk shake and his cold coffee spill, "Why?" he hissed, he could've yelled- the house was empty- he lived by himself, he moved out of his parents place a month ago. Even his own parents hated him.

"Why do I push everyone away?" he known the answer, it was because he wanted to be better. They pulled him back. Also he was afraid. Afraid of THIS. His feelings that clouded his thoughts, corrupted his decisions and made him weak.

She didn't need him. Not anymore. His smile fell, rubbing away the tears that spilled down his face. _Man, grown men don't cry. You're Fred Jones, put yourself back together before you completely lose yourself! _A cruel voice snarled in his head, Fred stiffened, slightly revolted with himself to break down so easily. He wasn't the hero anymore, there was no need for him. He couldn't save her, because she didn't need saving._ Go back to her, it's not too late- _Fred drummed his fingers, trying to drown the thought with the beat of the tapping. He couldn't do that, take away her control, turn her back to the helpless girl she once was. No. She deserve her place. His drumming halted. As if someone just flicked a switch inside his head. Her… and Shaggy. Why didn't he seen it sooner? They spent so much time together, and now…

In the gloom he imagined them both embraced, their mouths locked in a passionate kiss. He raised from his chair as if they actually stood in the room, wanting to punch the beatnik. He felt his fists tighten as his stomach made violent flips, he paced back and forth- as he usually did when irritated. Though the thought was too strong. He needed to physically do something to calm down. He clutched his head, that throbbed with the sight of them together. He pushed away his piles of work, extremely enraged with his hallucination, he wanted to immediately forget. He reached for his bottle, hidden behind the piles of work. He felt the sting of the heavy income of alcohol, after a few long gulps, his headache faded. He gasped for breath. His jealousy faded, as the strong alcohol made his mind swirl. She hated him- of course he noticed the glares- he realised he hated himself also. "Daphne." he called softly, her name still sent chills up him spine, "If only…" If only he looked at her more, to admire everything she was and everything he wasn't-if only he didn't taken advantage of her. If only- _you listened. You should've listened to her._

"I know." he whispered, resting his head on the now naked desk. He wanted to drown, drown away in his alcohol, to forget her, to forget him. Just drown.

He will feel the pain tomorrow.


End file.
